


Cherry Red Lips

by Lady_of_Inklings



Series: Molten Gold Dreams [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Bodyguard AU, Bodyguard Katsuki Yuuri, Fashion & Couture, Fashion Designer Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Make Up Brands Galore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 18:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16310720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Inklings/pseuds/Lady_of_Inklings
Summary: “For someone who is so fashionably…..inclined, you have very lovely eyes and good bone structure. That's very important if you're going to bemybodyguard.” He leaned away, the smell of his cologne lingered and Yuuri was left reeling.Yuuri blinked, unsure if he was insulting him or not.Day 1: Fashion Stylists.





	Cherry Red Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt for [Yuri on Ice Fashion Week](https://yurionrunway.tumblr.com/) : Fashion Stylists.
> 
> This was fun to do.

Everything here smelled of floral perfume and hairspray. Yuuri struggled to keep his face as neutral as possible as he walked into the dressing room, he wanted to gag the moment he opened the door.

Everything was automatically too….. _much._

Too flashy.

Too loud.

Too alien.

Yuuri wasn't sure why he was sitting in a makeup chair with several artists fluttering around him like angry bees or why he was told to wait. It was slightly annoying how each one plucked and picked at him as if he were some specimen, cooing about his skin and eyes. He didn’t know much about the world of high fashion or about makeup. Just thinking about the products they were using was making his head spin. He didn't want to know the price of the tube of Fenty foundation that was being used on him, it only made his stomach churns at the thought.

All Yuuri knew was that he was assigned to protect Viktor Nikiforov, model turned designer and _The Most Beautiful Man In The World_ , from some threats. Mr. Feltsmen had been vague about who was threatening Viktor Nikiforov but as far as Yuuri knew, it must’ve been serious enough to contact Celestino for a bodyguard.

He licked his lips, tasting the cherry lipgloss that had been applied earlier. One of the stylists choked, their face turning an alarming shade of red as they picked up the red tube of lip gloss with MAC written across the label in bold black letters. Yuuri lowered his eyes, attributing it as nothing more than them being miffed that he had ruined their hard work.

Was this really even happening?

(What were the chances that he had been assigned to guard The Most Beautiful Man In The World? He still thought that Phichit had something to do with it, he wouldn't put it past him. Oh, God. How was he going to survive this assignment?)

Yuuri flinched as someone snatched his glasses away from his face.

“I need that,” He said flatly, all humor gone from his voice. 

“Oh, honey.” Someone said. Alexa? Aubry? He was sure their name started with an A. Yuuri scowled instead, tempted to roll his eyes at their voice. “It’s only for a moment. We need to get you some contacts, your eyes are too pretty to hide behind glasses. And you don’t even need false lashes too.”

He disagreed but they didn’t need to know that. His eyes were brown, what was so interesting about brown? Yuuri though his eyes were boring.

“Annnnnd done!” One of the stylists said with an enthusiastic wave of her hands. “Perfect.”

“You’re hands are magical, Andrea.” Yuuri squinted, unable to see shit. He could only see a blob of silver and blue. “Better, much better.”

He felt around the table, bumping into several bottles clumsily. At least Viktor Nikiforov wasn't here to see him fumble around like an idiot. He placed the glasses on the bridge of his nose, blinking owlishly.

It seemed he must’ve pissed off the fates today because Viktor Nikiforov was looking at him as if a snail had just crawled into his fashion show.

Holy shit, Phichit was right. Yuuri didn’t know how but those cheekbones were sharper than the knives he carried. It was almost unfair how gorgeous this man was, illegal even. 

He felt like he had suddenly been struck by lightning. 

“But we should definitely burn that suit,” Viktor Nikiforov said, his voice dripping with disdain for the polyester blended monstrosity that Yuuri wore. Yuuri felt the words die in his throat as Viktor looked at him with an appraising look. 

It took all his effort not to sink to the floor into a messy puddle of goo.

The man was dressed to the nines looking like he was about to walk the runway, as expected of a former model; the baby blue overcoat he wore hung from his shoulders elegantly highlighting his lean frame, covering the crisp white shirt (with gold buttons no less) and black pants so tight that they should be obscene. Yuuri was trying his best not to stare at the stilettos that he wore, they most likely costed more than his whole salary.

Somehow this only made him more intimidating.

He gulped.

God, he was screwed.

“And the tie too. No bodyguard of mine should wear something from Sears.”

“My name is Yuuri Katsuki,” Yuuri said, finally somehow able to find his voice. He stood up straighter in his seat, eyes forward and face passive. He reminded himself that bodyguards didn’t get intimidated by their very hot clients and their expensive heels. “This is my uniform and I happen to like this tie. I’d appreciate it if you didn't burn it.”

Viktor frowned, and then leant in till his face was one mere inches from Yuuri’s. It felt like the world had shrunk between those few inches. He held his breath. “For someone who is so fashionably…..inclined, you have very lovely eyes and good bone structure. That's very important if you're going to be _my_ bodyguard.” He leaned away, the smell of his cologne lingered and Yuuri was left reeling. 

Viktor pushed his hair back and tilted his face towards the mirror, his nails raking through his scalp. Yuuri suppressed a shudder and clamped his mouth shut. 

"Now if we slicked your hair back, it would complete the look." 

Yuuri blinked, unsure if he was insulting him or not.

The stylists were still staring at him, the one who had done his make up looked like he was going to faint. He lowers his eyes always from them, staring at the poodle shaped pin on Viktor’s lapel instead, their gazes made him even more uncomfortable. 

Viktor shoos away the stylists nonchalantly with a flick of his hand, his eyes still staring into Yuuri’s through the mirror. Pleasantly, he found that his were bluer in person, even under the bright floresent lights of the vanity, they were ten times more brilliant than in any of the posters than Yuuri had seen him in. ( _Not_ that he owned any posters or anything. Of course not, that would be weird.)

But even if those eyes glittered like diamonds, there was a sense of deeply rooted sadness there. There were secrets hidden away, like how the sea hid its treasures but Yuuri knew that some secrets were better kept safely hidden away in darkened rooms and locked safes. Whatever secrets Viktor was keeping, he only hoped that they weren't dangerous ones. 

“Has Yakov told you everything?” Viktor asked him, his hands still running through Yuuri's hair. He should bat his hands away but his hands were supringly warm and comforting. Yuuri felt a sense of regret when Viktor pulled his hands away. 

“I’ve been told that you’ve been threatened, mostly anonymous letter and calls,” Yuuri said in a cautious tone, silently applauding himself for not stuttering. He lifts his eyes up, staring back. “Mr. Cialdini told me that you’ve asked for a 24/7 detail and you specifically wanted to keep it lowkey as possible. Is there anything else I need to know or is that all?”

Viktor didn’t say anything for a few seconds, his silence made Yuuri a bit uncomfortable. He clears his throat, hoping that it would dispense with some of the awkwardness. Viktor was an unreadable man, his face betrayed no emotion and Yuuri wasn't sure if he liked that. 

His job was already hard enough.

“You’re right but you’ve missed one little detail, Mr Katsuki.” He said eventually. "I hope this isn't too unprofessional of me but I suppose desperate times call for desperate measures." 

“What?” Yuuri raised his recently done eyebrow at him. "Does it have something to do with sitting me in a chair and having a bunch of makeup artists torture me?"

“Oh, Mr. Katsuki." He chuckled, breaking the awkwardness in the air. Yuuri didn’t see what was so funny but Viktor begged to differ. Between the frills, loud colours, and pulsing runway music, Yuuri was only an intruder into the world of fashion; and it seemed it wouldn't remain that way for long. 

"You’re going to my boyfriend.”


End file.
